


Unbind Me

by apostapals (apostapal)



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Blood, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-28 15:31:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8451853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apostapal/pseuds/apostapals
Summary: Prompt fill. Nature of the Beast is a dangerous time for Mahariel.





	

The taint of the Blight itself could not give Mahariel pause but something about this hit is too much. He sits on the leaf-littered ground for a full five minutes, head between his knees, before he’ll even respond to Wynne’s fretful questions or the mabari gently nudging his bloodied side.

And, even then, all he can say is “I think I’m going to throw up.”

“Perhaps we should stop a moment and–”

“No.” the warden spits on the ground between his feet, braces himself on his sword, and raises up to himself up again.

Zevran watches, chewing the inside of his cheek to keep from saying anything. He knows this stubborn man by now. Any argument they offer towards the contrary of what he wants will only push him further.

But there’s blood seeping out from the gaps in his armor and down his leg and it’s clear the wound was more than it seemed by how he’s limping off ahead of them without another word.

Wynne steps after him, snags his arm, and nearly yanks him off his feet. This, of course, is frightening all its own considering the warrior is not someone easily toppled.

“Let me at least heal it.” she insists, her free hand shooting to hold his shoulder to help steady him.

_“No.”_ Mahariel hisses, still leaning too heavily on his sword.

Wynne stares at him a long moment and something dawns on Zevran like a cold gust of wind to the face.

“You were bitten?”

Mahariel doesn’t say anything. His eyes dart to the leaf-litter, the sky, his own bloody side–anywhere that isn’t Wynne or Zevran or, Maker forbid, the forlorn dog at his side. Zevran takes a step closer, hands raised.

“So what, you intend to just bleed everywhere before you turn?”

The warden is still refusing to look at him but he motions for Wynne to come closer. The mage steps in and raises healing magic to his side. When the silence grows larger than he likes, Zevran nudges his shoulder and the warrior looks at him.

“We don’t have time.” he says finally, brows furrowed.

Mahariel faces death and curses in a fashion Zevran cannot understand–even being so intimate with all sides of self destruction himself. In the end it’s all fear motivated, of course, but it still makes so little sense.

“Asking for help is no waste of time, my warden.” Zevran says, hand still on Mahariel’s shoulder balling into a fist in the man’s cloak.

Wynne dusts her hands and sighs, patting Mahariel’s other shoulder, and says, “He’s right and you know it.”

Mahariel meets Zevran’s gaze, mouth set in a hard line, and sighs through his nose. His free hand, not still white knuckle on his sword hilt, raises and clasps Zevran’s forearm.

“Help me end this before it ends me?” he asks.

Zevran smiles. “Of course, dear warden,” he says, “I’ll carry you the whole way if I must.”

Mahariel laughs, hand lowering to hold his side with a slight wince, and says, “Hopefully that is not necessary. But thank you.”

Seeing as the warden is in pain, Zevran even spares him a _‘See, was that so hard?’_

By the time they reach Witherfang it looks as if Mahariel may take him up on the offer. During negotiations the rogue moves closer, just in case he needs to be an unexpected brace when the pain becomes too great. The warden is too stubborn to take him up on the offer but seems comforted by it all the same.

“You’ll end that curse if I have to force you _myself!_ ”

Still so full of fight even with a curse burning in his veins, Zevran thinks. Perhaps there is a reason this man has done everything he has, beyond the obvious.

Before the warrior clears the room, half-limping, Zevran ducks between werewolves and lighting to Zathrian. If it is force that’s needed it will be what he applies.

He has his word to keep, after all.


End file.
